


No.

by wth_am_i_writing



Category: VIXX
Genre: Angst, Choking, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-24 12:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17100779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wth_am_i_writing/pseuds/wth_am_i_writing
Summary: Tighter, tighter. The bruises would be the only proof of his struggles.





	No.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on August 2, 2014.
> 
> Original Author’s Note: I started this several months ago when I was actually in a really depressed mood. I’ve been having pretty bad writer’s block lately and I figured I’d look through fics I’d started but hadn’t finished. I hadn’t initially planned to publish this, but I think I will. I finished this one up pretty easily, but I’m not in the depressed mood I was when I started it. I chose Leo for this one because he’s stated himself that he’s not the type to let things go when he makes a mistake or doesn’t meet his expectations. Hmm… well, hope you enjoy.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

He repeated it in his head over and over again but it seemed like it did nothing to drive down the urge. Do something else, his mind finally supplied, so he surfed the internet, watched some videos, found new music, read the news, but the urge didn’t disappear.

He couldn’t concentrate, his mind constantly looping back to the accident during practice. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to perform at all but he couldn’t dance, and that hit Leo harder than anything else. It was a huge inconvenience to the others.

As soon as he’d gotten home, he’d locked himself away in a closet. They’d left him alone and he found his mind going to dark places, places he felt uncomfortable going, that he didn’t want to go.

His hand curled around his throat.

No.

No.

No.

Do something else.

He squeezed, breath shortening as his airflow was compromised.

No.

This wasn’t what he wanted.

But his other hand came up to cover the first and increased the pressure.

He was over reacting, he knew, but the misstep that caused the accident, the inconvenience he’d caused the others, it had been preventable. They would have to rearrange the choreography because he wouldn’t be able to even practice again until the promotional period was halfway over and he’d been the focus at several key points.

He needed to stop thinking about it.

He swallowed, the action pressing his throat into his hands more and making it harder to breathe.

No, no, no.

Tighter, tighter.

No, no.

He had to stop. If he kept squeezing, he’d probably get bruises.

He probably already passed that point a few seconds ago.

Leo was getting dizzy.

If he squeezed a little bit harder, he wondered if he could make himself pass out.

No.

No, no, no.

He didn’t want to make himself pass out. That was a terrible idea. He just wanted to make the thoughts go away.

But he wondered if anyone would find him before he woke up if he did pass out. How long would he be out if he did? He wouldn’t be able to kill himself this way, but it felt like he was trying.

He needed to stop. He needed to let go.

But the others–they’d shown him nothing but concern, but he knew they were frustrated and mad. He couldn’t just let it go when it he’d screwed everything up just four days before the comeback stage.

It was almost impossible to breathe, his head was spinning.

He needed to let go.

Let go.

He was over reacting.

It was an inconvenience but it was fine.

This wasn’t what he wanted.

It wouldn’t be ok.

He had to let go.

His hands finally seemed to listen to him, and he gasped, the rush of air sending him reeling even more. He slumped over, clenching his fists as he tried to catch his breath, but that did little to stop the urge to return his hands to his neck and squeeze.

When his breathing finally returned back to normal, Leo looked up and around the closet–his dark little safe haven when he needed to escape. But as the urge to choke himself kept getting stronger, as his fingernails dug into his palms from how hard he was trying to resist, he wondered if it really was a safe haven.

No.

No.

No.

Don’t squeeze.

Don’t think about it.

He stood up, grabbing his laptop, carefully avoiding pressure on his injured leg, and opened the door.

Being alone was a very bad idea at the moment.

Maybe if he was surrounded by the others, he wouldn’t have the urge to wrap his hands back around his neck.


End file.
